


The Masquerade

by hollyand



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Femdom, Pegging, canapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 15:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10249565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/pseuds/hollyand
Summary: During a masked ball at the Hawke Estate, Marian Hawke sneaks away and pegs her mage.Written for Green_Sphynx, who requested me to write and post an Anders pegging fic "by tonight". Challenge accepted :-)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Green_Sphynx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/gifts).



Hightown nobles’ parties were so _boring_. Marian Hawke could not have been less enthused about this one even if she’d tried – even if it _was_ one that she herself was hosting, albeit at her mother’s request.

‘It’ll be a good opportunity for you, dear,’ Leandra had reassured her, as she laced up her grumpy daughter’s corset. ‘You never know who you might meet.’

Marian rolled her eyes inwardly as she stared at herself in the full-length mirror, being trussed and tied up into this ridiculous garment to fit an equally ridiculous dress. ‘Yes, mother.’

‘Seneschal Bran’s son will be there,’ Leandra continued, winking at her daughter in the mirror.

Now Marian let out a loud sigh. ‘Yes, Mother.’

‘He’s around your age,’ Leandra said hopefully, ‘and seemed very interested in you.’

‘So you already said, Mother.’

‘Well, anyway,’ Leandra said, sighing in turn, ‘it’ll do you good to meet other men of your station. You never know, you might even meet a suitable husband.’

‘I doubt it,’ said Marian, as she picked up her mask for the ball, and twirled it around in her hand. It was a pretty little thing: brown-black metal filigree woven into such an ornate delicate pattern that it brought out the blue of her eyes and the red of her lips beautifully, yet Marian couldn’t help being wistful it would be wasted on a whole ballroom of men and women she couldn’t muster any interest in.

The one person she was interested in – the one person whom she _might_ have wanted to see her in this state – wouldn’t be here anyway; he would be healing the poor and downtrodden of the city in Darktown’s sewers, proving himself far more noble than any of the so-called nobles in attendance.

Marian knit her brows at the thought, and continued to fiddle with the expensive mask as she spoke. ‘And what good would a _masquerade ball_ of all things be, Mother? I wouldn’t even be able to see anyone’s faces, let alone get to know them well enough.’

‘Well, a masquerade ball makes as fine an introduction as any,’ Leandra countered, as she watched her daughter hold the mask up to her carefully powdered and made-up face. ‘The mystery only adds to the allure.’

Marian snorted, and her mother winced at the unladylike noise.

‘I am perfectly capable of choosing for myself, Mother. I don’t need to attend parties like these to prove to all these snooty nobles that I’m worthy of their hand. I am much more interested in someone who might be worthy of _mine_.’

Leandra sighed. Much as she was keen to secure a good marriage – and thus cement their newly-restored position – among the nobles of Hightown, she knew it was futile to try to push her daughter into anything that she didn’t want to do; the fact that she had even agreed to hold the ball was probably victory enough, under the circumstances.

‘You look lovely in that ballgown, dear,’ was Leandra’s eventual attempt to revive the conversation, and she could have sworn Marian pulled a face in response. Yards of deep red silk, trimmed with black lace, with the Amell logo subtly embroidered into the fine material in a regular pattern throughout the dress – Leandra thought the gown made her daughter looked every inch the title of Lady Amell she had just inherited, and secretly rejoiced at it. She could only hope that her daughter would eventually come to be of the same mind.

It wasn’t looking likely, true. But the night was young, and anything could happen.

***

Powdered and bewigged nobles lined up one by one to be greeted by the lady of the Hawke Estate, yet it was Leandra who enthusiastically performed her duties in welcoming them all to Hightown’s hottest and most exclusive ball. Hawke herself stood dutifully to one side of her mother, smiling politely as masked and haughty nobles in tight breeches and their (equally masked) female companions with unnecessarily large fans admitted themselves into the house, while Bodahn directed them with the most effusive addresses to the ballroom.

Hawke would much rather be running around Hightown dispatching of bandits with her fellow rogue and best friend Isabela, and the fact that she would be stuck here with _these people_ (and horror of horrors, Seneschal Bran’s son was indeed here, _hide me someone please_ ) made her feel the loss of her friends much more keenly.

The wine was in full flow; and as she heard the sounds of deep red and almost-white liquids being sloshed into grateful glasses, Hawke briefly wondered what Fenris would have thought of such a gathering, and rued that she hadn’t been allowed to invite any of her friends. A flash of gold from a sinister laughing mask caught her eye, and made her think of Anders: of his golden hair, still so clean and lustrous through the Darktown dirt, and her heart ached. If only he was here tonight; that would make everything so much better.

Leandra didn’t yet seem to know that her daughter was courting the mage from the sewers, even though she and Anders had even discussed him moving into the Hawke Estate after they spent their first night together – or maybe she did know and was just in denial, hopeful that she could still make an eligible match for her daughter yet.

Bodahn and Orana, distinguished as servants by their plain black satin masks and smart uniforms, were whirling through the room with silver platters of canapés piled high and looking so tantalisingly delicious, all kinds of tasty savoury things that made Hawke’s mouth melt, and she decided she would busy herself in them for a while. At least she’d be able to stuff her face, if nothing else. Perhaps if people thought she was busy, they might even avoid talking to her.

Hawke moved through the crowds, ignoring everyone’s attempts to talk to her – she was still recognisable even in this mask; perhaps she should have worn a wig as well, she thought – trying to sneak canapés and other small bites from Orana’s tray first, before moving onto Bodahn’s… and it wasn’t long before she caught sight of a rapidly-emptying silver tray being held by a servant she didn’t recognise, surrounded by the most flirtatious nobles in Hightown.

The servant was tall and pale, and dressed in the same crisp white shirt and pressed black suit that Bodahn and Orana wore, and the same black satin mask; and although he had his back turned slightly to Hawke, his posture and his strawberry blond hair were definitely familiar.

Hawke blinked, surprised – no, it couldn’t be. The servant turned slightly, his attention attracted by the braying of another upper-class twit – and Hawke saw his nose in profile, long and sloped and fine and proud.

‘Anders!’ Hawke exclaimed in surprise.

The servant turned; and even through his mask, Hawke could see his honey-brown eyes softening as his gaze met hers, blond hair framing his high forehead and handsome face – even in his mask – and there was no doubt who it was at last.

‘Haw – I mean, Lady Amell,’ Anders replied, and yes, it was Anders, oh Maker _yes_ he was here at least, and Hawke’s heart leapt – he had sneaked in somehow, or been sneaked in, and at last she would be rescued from this insufferable company. Anders had composed himself quickly from his initial surprise, realising they were surrounded by curious nobles; and the tone in which he addressed her was the well-acted deference of a servant to his mistress.

Hawke allowed herself a small smirk. If this was the part that Anders was going to play, then _she_ would play along with him.

‘I see the canapés have proved popular,’ she remarked, in the most neutral voice she could.

‘Oh yes!’ brayed Lord Reinhardt from next to where Anders stood; he seemed drunk already, and (much to Hawke’s dismay) gathered the remaining three canapés on Anders’s tray into his large hand and promptly scooped them into his mouth. Hawke and Anders watched, aghast, as he continued his conversation while chewing and spraying bits of shortcrust pastry everywhere. ‘The very finest, Lady Amell! Compliments to the chef!’

‘Thank you,’ Hawke replied, stepping back to avoid bits of flying food. ‘I am sure my servant will pass on his compliments when he returns to the kitchens,’ and here she looked pointedly at Anders, ‘to fetch more finger food.’

‘I will,’ said Anders, taking the hint, and bowing politely. He walked towards the kitchens, and Hawke watched him go.

‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said to Lord Reinhardt, ‘I need to attend to some of the other guests.’

Hawke left without waiting to hear Lord Reinhardt’s disappointment, and went off in search of Anders. She caught up with him before he reached the kitchens, and was able to pull him to one side.

‘Lady Amell,’ Anders addressed her politely while attempting to slide by, but Hawke put out a beefy arm and stopped him.

‘Don’t you “Lady Amell” me,’ she told him. ‘Anders. How did you get in?’

Anders shrugged; his lanky figure really did look good in that suit, Hawke decided, and she would have to find some way to reward whoever helped disguise him as a servant so that he could be at her party. ‘It was Isabela’s idea,’ he explained. ‘She spied on Orana ordering the outfits in Hightown, and insisted on measuring me to have one made up for me.’ He coughed awkwardly. ‘She… may have slipped Orana some money to go back to the shop and have my outfit made. Orana is known to be your servant, after all, whereas Isabela and I aren’t. And then… I came up through the cellars, of course, and I was made to bathe and dress beforehand.’

He looked her up and down appreciatively, and despite herself Hawke couldn’t help blushing slightly. ‘You look beautiful, love,’ Anders murmured. ‘It was worth having Isabela disguise me to get me in tonight, if only to see you looking like this.’

‘I ought to thank her,’ Hawke marvelled, grateful that Isabela had thought to do at least this for her, even if she hadn’t wanted to sneak in herself. An idea occurred to her: as far as anyone at the party knew, Anders was merely one of the servants, gone to fetch more canapés from the kitchen, while Hawke had gone to attend to the other guests.

Nobody would know if Anders took a while to go to the kitchens. And nobody knew which ‘guests’ Hawke was busying herself with.

‘Anders,’ Hawke began, ‘if you are here disguised as my servant, you’re going to need to act the part.’

‘I know that, love,’ Anders replied, smiling fondly at her, while Hawke grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the kitchen and to a more secluded part of the mansion.

‘And as my _servant_ ,’ Hawke said, pointedly, pulling him along and away from party noise, ‘you are to follow my orders.’

Anders’s eyes widened in surprise, even under his mask, and Hawke met his gaze as innocently as she could. ‘OK, then, lov – I mean, of course.’

‘And if I order you to sneak away from the party with me for a quickie in my bedroom,’ and here Hawke grinned wickedly at him, ‘you do as you are told.’

Understanding dawned on Anders now; and he chuckled at this new game they were playing. ‘I will.’

They tumbled through the threshold of her bedroom, Anders giggling at his new role, but Hawke, giddy at her new-found power over her ‘servant’, was in no mood to let him have his relief yet.

‘Trousers down, Anders,’ she ordered. ‘Bend over the bed.’

Anders obeyed, and Hawke noted with satisfaction that he was hard already as his cock sprung free. Hawke marched over just as Anders reached down to touch his cock, and to his surprise, she slapped his hand away.

‘No, Anders,’ Hawke commanded. ‘Don’t touch yourself until I tell you to.’

Hawke rummaged in one of the drawers in her bedside cabinet, and brought out a vial of oil, and something that she was fairly sure Anders didn’t know she possessed.

And sure enough, Anders’s eyes were widening, even under the mask. ‘Hawke,’ he eventually rasped, ‘that’s… that’s your strap-on?’

‘Yes,’ Hawke answered cheerfully, gathering up the front of her skirts and putting it on; the velvet straps against her pussy felt so soft and belied the hard member now protruding in front of her pubes. ‘Now, Anders,’ she said sweetly, teasing his entrance with the head, and Anders moaned in response, ‘kneel on the bed for me, and let me kneel behind you.’

Anders did as he was told once again, and Hawke dipped her fingers into the vial of oil and smoothed them first over her strap-on, then circled his anus gently, before sliding one well-lubricated finger in.

Anders groaned as she slipped her finger in and out, then gave a choked cry and arched his back as she slid a second finger in; and even with their relationship being as new as it was, Hawke decided she liked him submissive and on all fours like this.

‘We should do this more often,’ Hawke chuckled as she slipped her fingers out, and Anders whined at their loss. Anders tried to buck against her, seeking her fingers again; but Hawke pushed him back into place, before kneeling between his legs and guiding the head of her strap-on to his hole and circling it once more, before slowly, gently, pushing in.

Anders groaned again, almost in relief this time, as Hawke grabbed both his hips to hold him firm as she inched her way in.

‘How does that feel, Anders,’ Hawke murmured, tracing a path to his cock and stroking it, watching the back of his blond head.

‘G–good,’ Anders choked out, as Hawke drew herself back, and gently thrust into him again. ‘I – oh, love – I’m good.’

‘Mmmm,’ Hawke replied; the movement was causing the velvet against her pussy to slide just a little, and it felt exquisite. ‘Tell me how you want me to take you, Anders.’

‘Just like that,’ Anders gritted out, and Hawke laughed in delight.

‘Very well, then,’ she said, and Anders cried out as she thrust sharply into him again, ‘I will grant your request. You may touch yourself when you need to.’

And Hawke thrust, listening to Anders’s satisfied moans as she drove in and out, gasping herself at the feeling of the soft strap against her own sensitive regions, while Anders dipped down and buried his face in the pillow to muffle his own cries.

It felt good, pegging her mage like this, watching him touch his cock while Hawke felt her own orgasm building; and when Anders begged her ‘harder, faster love, oh!’ Hawke was only too happy to oblige, if only because of the way her clit was needing the extra pressure on it; and finally Anders came loudly, even with the pillow over his mouth, ejaculating messily all over the bedsheets while Hawke thrust as roughly as she could, with all the strength she had; and the quivering movements of the strap against her pussy were enough to pull her over the edge too, and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand in the hope she wouldn't come  _too_ loudly, lest Leandra send one of the _real_ servants up to see what was going on.

Finally, the haze cleared, and Hawke slipped out of her lover and collapsed onto her haunches, while Anders fell forward onto the bed. They stayed like that for a while, panting, until Anders slowly rolled over and grimaced at his crumpled shirt and suit.

‘Ugh,’ he groaned, staring apologetically at the white stains all over his uniform. ‘I… don’t think I can go back to the party like this, love.’

Hawke laughed. ‘I think you’re dismissed for the evening,’ she teased as she slowly removed the moistened strap-on from her nether regions. ‘You’ve worked… hard enough at your job; I think you deserve an early rest.’ She pulled Anders into a sitting position, and kissed him gently on the lips. ‘But… maybe if you’re up for it, I will let you come again at the end of the evening.’

**Author's Note:**

> I'm usually a M!Hawke/Anders author, but hope you all liked my first foray into the F!Hawke/Anders version! Come say hello at [hollyand-writes.tumblr.com](http://hollyand-writes.tumblr.com)!


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